


What a Rush

by Marks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Drinking, House Party, Intoxication, Kissing, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, it's all fun and games until Bokuto throws a frat party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-13 19:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: “Sorry, Bro,” Bokuto said. “But you know what they say – early bird catches the pledge.”“Early bird?” Kuroo called after him. “Do you even know what owls are?”





	What a Rush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pugglemuggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugglemuggle/gifts).



> aka the only fic on AO3 with alphas and omegas that has nothing to do with going into heat. Listen, I know what Chi-Rho stands for in Greek, but it also sounds like Crow, so give me a break.
> 
> Hope you like this, Ruby!!

It was too fucking early. Kuroo had spent most of last night failing to beat Kenma at Mario Tennis, and the rest kicking Tora’s ass in it as revenge. He was also about halfway hungover, halfway still-drunk, but he was Kappa Alpha Tau president this year and that meant responsibility. Only freshmen were dumb enough to have eight AM classes, so Kuroo had a job to do.

He groaned as he lowered himself into the broken porch swing, turned his red snapback around, and raised the megaphone to his lips.

“Rush season is upon us!” he announced, grinning as an angry-looking kid with dark hair and a redhead half his height startled visibly, both freezing up mid-yawn. “Meet and greet tonight. All freshman dudes welcome – we’ll get your neurons firing, your blood pumping, your –”

“HEY HEY HEY,” bellowed a voice from the porch next door, stepping all over Kuroo’s awesome speech. “Only aces allowed at Omega Psi Lambda! Come to our party tonight! Free booze if you’re not a cop and you have to tell us if you are! Rush us if you want to be cool!” Bokuto sailed a paper airplane out toward the sidewalk.

“I want to be cool!” the little redheaded kid yelled, jumping pretty impressively to catch Bokuto’s flier.

The dark-haired guy whapped the redhead in the chest when he landed again. “Idiot,” he growled, but he grabbed the flier to read as they walked off.

“Yo, Bo!” Kuroo yelled, leaning over the railway. It creaked threateningly, but it had been a while since ΚΑΤ house had been a major campus force, so repairs had to wait. “You stepped on my speech.”

Bokuto Koutarou, Omega Psi Lambda (aka Owl House) president, ducked out, too, and grinned. He was a big dude, built, and had hair even worse than Kuroo’s, which was really saying something. But he was sweet and most of the time he and Kuroo got along great; right now, though, Kuroo was mad. 

“Sorry, Bro,” Bokuto said without heat. “But you know what they say – early bird catches the pledge.”

“Bokuto-san,” said a voice from ΩΨΛ’s porch, “you have a phone call on the house line.”

Bokuto’s grin got wider. Kuroo couldn’t help thinking it was a cute smile, which pissed him off a lot. “Coming, Akaashi.” He disappeared from Kuroo’s view.

“Early bird?” Kuroo called after him. “Do you even know what owls are?” He flopped back into the porch swing. “The cop thing’s not even true,” he muttered. Kuroo sighed to himself and raised his megaphone again.

*

The get-together was a bust. Kuroo had somehow roped in three potential pledges - a bouncy kid with fluffy, too-high hair, a short kid who seemed thoughtful and quiet, and a half-Russian guy who was roughly the height of a tree – but none of the fraternity’s members seemed overly concerned with the being impressive part of making an impression, and everything was pretty, well, boring.

The three freshmen looked at the rest of them with eager eyes, and Kenma’s phone beeped and played some triumphant J-pop because his idol game was having an event, which was apparently a life or death situation for him. Taketora whined about the lack of girls, even though this was a Rush event, which made Kuroo question Tora’s IQ. Yaku, apparently agreeing, slapped him upside the head and Taketora launched himself across the room. Kai separated them with a gentle smile that made everyone other than the the three newbies shiver. And Fukunaga –

Eh. Who ever knew what Fukunaga was up to? If Kuroo had to guess, he’d say… crab impression? Fukunaga opened and closed his hands like pincers and scuttled over to the new guys.

Kuroo ran his hand through his hair, always a habit, always a mistake. He wasn’t going to look in a mirror for the rest of the night. “So, yeah, like I was saying, our collective GPA is the highest of all the fraternities on campus, and we’d very much like to keep it that way –”

The half-Russian kid’s hand immediately shot into the air. “Do you tutor?”

Kuroo smiled. “Yeah, of course,” he assured the kid. Kuroo thought his name was Lev, and even if he wasn’t too hot in the grades department, at least with a guy that tall they’d kick ass at intra-frat volleyball. “Yaku’s in charge of it this year, so just ask him about any classes you’re having trouble with.”

Yaku had produced a ruler from somewhere and slapped his open palm with it, wearing a weird little smile on his face. Kuroo rubbed the bridge of his nose.

After that, everyone looked at each other awkwardly and everything descended into silence, aside from Kenma’s phone. Kuroo walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, chugging a beer while repeatedly thumping his forehead against the freezer door.

“Why did I even want to be president of this stupid fraternity?” Kuroo asked himself. Instead of an answer, a blast of music came thumping through the walls, the bass dropping along with Kuroo’s hopes for reviving a failing fraternity.

The kitchen’s floorboards squeaked then, momentarily pulling Kuroo out of his spiral of melancholy. Yaku was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yo, Tetsurou, we’re all heading next door. It sounds like they wouldn’t even notice us with whatever’s raging over there, and at least the new guys will know there’s _some_ fun nearby.”

“Traitor,” Kuroo muttered under his breath.

“What?” Yaku asked, smiling his scary little smile again.

“Nothing!” Kuroo said, tilting his head and smiling himself. “Have fun!” He opened the fridge again and grabbed his second beer of the night.

The house was even quieter without the awkward meetup in the common area. Kuroo took advantage of that, throwing himself into Kenma’s favorite armchair and putting on the big screen television. Kuroo reveled in messing up Kai’s Netflix queue, and breaking into Taketora’s beer after finishing all of his own. Cans littered the floor, and he didn’t even clean it up when he spilled Fukunaga’s Doritos all over Kenma’s chair. Dorito dust stuck to everything.

Kuroo was idly slapping Yaku’s ruler against his thigh, seeing how hard he could do it before his alcohol-addled brain registered what he was doing, when the music next door seemingly got even _louder_ and he heard someone bellow, “HEY HEY HEY!”

“Jesus,” Kuroo sighed, struggling out of Kenma’s chair. He fell back, but had a successful attempt number two, managing to stumble down the stairs and all the way into the Owls's house before he realized what he was doing.

The walls were wall-to-wall people, all of his house and all of Bokuto’s, along with a lot of Chi-Rho’s orange and black, so at least his house wasn’t the only one filled with traitors. Pretty much every sorority on campus was repping, too, and Kuroo’s eyes nearly got stuck rolling up into his skull when he spotted Tora and two of the Chi-Rho kids following a beautiful girl with glasses around and getting smacked down at every turn.

“What am I even doing here?” Kuroo wondered, eyes drifting across the dance floor, and settling on Bokuto, who was grinding in between two people before shooting them both a charming grin and fluidly finding two new partners without hurting any feelings.

“Pretty impressive.” 

Kuroo’s eyes slid over and found Sawamura, Chi-Rho’s president, looking at Bokuto, too, his arms crossed over his chest. They both just watched for a while and the world started to tilt and sway along with the rhythm of Bokuto’s hips. Kuroo licked his lips, then cleared his throat violently.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said to Sawamura, letting his eyes cut to the side.

Sawamura sighed. “My whole house ruined my Rush plans,” he said. “Or rather, Suga said he wanted to dance, not play a Parcheesi tournament. Parcheesi’s a classic!”

Kuroo snorted. “That’s pathetic, dude,” he said, and Sawamura got up in his face – and on his tiptoes, Kuroo noted with some pleasure. They glared at each other for a moment until they both sagged and started grinning. “My house is full of defectors, too,” Kuroo admitted.

“Maybe we should just become one big fraternity and do away with all the competition, since this always happens,” Sawamura said. 

Both of them were silent for a moment.

“Nah,” they said in unison.

Azumane, Sawamura’s enforcer-looking brother who wouldn’t hurt a fly, ran over to Sawamura then, out of breath and wringing his hands. “Daichi, Nishinoya and Tanaka are drinking something that smells like gasoline, and they keep challenging me to manliness contests. Help?”

Sawamura raised an eyebrow. “You’re such a big baby.” He sounded fond about it. “See ya, Kuroo,” Sawamura said as he walked away, tugging at Azumane’s ponytail.

The whole world started to take on a new sort of fuzziness, so Kuroo made his way over to the wall. A handful of steps away, Bokuto clapped his hands together and bowed to yet another dance partner. When he straightened up again, he spotted Kuroo and their eyes locked. Kuroo felt his cheeks flush, but that was probably just an effect of the alcohol. Then Bokuto grinned widely at him and Kuroo’s face heated up even more.

Bokuto’s t-shirt was at least a size too small for him, the short sleeves clinging to his biceps. His jeans weren’t much better, showing off the shape of his thighs. Kuroo idly wished that he’d turn around, so he could get a look at that, too, and his eyes widened at the thought even as he was having it.

“Ah, hell,” Kuroo muttered under his breath, his eyes growing wider and his swears more colorful as Bokuto started to make his way over to him. Bokuto looked _good_ and Kuroo was too buzzed to pretend like he didn’t think so. The best he could hope for was neither of them remembered any of this in the morning.

Bokuto wrapped him up in a huge hug, first thing. They weren’t really hugging friends, but Bokuto was a solid wall of comforting warmth, and Kuroo found himself sinking into it. He didn’t think people could sink into walls, but hey, here he was. Kuroo reached up, awkwardly petting in between Bokuto’s shoulder blades, and froze. Now Kuroo was no slouch in the workout department – he’d always been athletic and he spent a decent amount of time at the gym, but even he couldn’t even tell what some of those muscles were.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered into Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Bro,” Bokuto said, pulling back to grab Kuroo by the biceps, “you’re the last of your brothers I’ve seen. I didn’t think you were coming over. Yaku said you were pouting!”

Kuroo palmed his own chest and gasped. “Me? Pout? Never!”

Bokuto let out a giant boisterous laugh, throwing his head back with his hands on his hips; he looked like a handsome mountain man whose picture graced the side of a paper towel roll.

It suddenly occurred to Kuroo that it had been a long time since he’d gotten laid.

“That’s what I told him,” Bokuto said, looping a friendly – giant – arm around Kuroo’s shoulders, reaching up to do it. Kuroo, at least, was satisfied to realize that he was still taller than Bokuto. That was something. “Let’s go get you a drink!”

Kuroo squeezed his eyes closed as he let Bokuto steer him toward the kitchen, trying to remember how many beers he’d already had before coming over and how much he’d regret this tomorrow. The answers were a lot and a lot respectively.

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto said happily, leaning over the counter to get his vice-president’s attention. “Is the new batch almost ready?”

Akaashi was quiet and a nice guy, but cunning and clever and already an officer as a junior. He had a sleepy-eyed way of sizing a person up that sort of scared Kuroo, not that he’d ever admit that out loud. He wouldn’t even admit that now as Akaashi gave him the onceover. 

Akaashi was set up behind their kitchen counter, mixing something in a punch bowl. There were a suspicious number of empty bottles lined up in front of him and not all of them still had labels. He produced a match from somewhere, lit it, and threw it into the bowl. As it went up, Kuroo instinctually backed up, only to find Bokuto right behind him.

When had Bokuto moved? And why was his first instinct to wrap his arms around Kuroo’s middle, like they were posing for a prom photo?

“Ready,” Akaashi agreed, ladling the mystery fire drink into a red Solo cup and passing it over to Kuroo. 

“The Akaashi special,” Bokuto said, leaning close enough to Kuroo’s ear that warm breath pushed over his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end. “He’s been perfecting them since freshman year.”

Kuroo lifted his cup and sniffed it suspiciously. It smelled like nothing, which in and of itself was sort of worrisome. “Will it kill me?”

“Enough of them will make you want to die,” Akaashi said helpfully.

Bokuto laughed. “But just the right amount will make you ascend to the heavens.”

Akaashi nodded. “I call it Too Much of a Good Thing.”

Kuroo looked over his shoulder at Bokuto. “And you have enough self-restraint to limit yourself?”

Bokuto looked offended. “What are you talking about? I’m loaded with restraint! I’m the restrainiest guy in the galaxy!” He stepped away from Kuroo and flexed his arms, like he was about to save the universe.

Akaashi leaned over the counter and murmured to Kuroo, “It took a few tries, but I’ve got Bokuto-san trained now. My real secret: limit one per customer. I don’t need any lawsuits on the house’s hands.”

Kuroo snorted and took a cautious drink; right away his taste buds were whisked away to a remote tropical island. He groaned with pleasure, belatedly realizing that he also couldn’t taste any alcohol. The empty bottles on the kitchen counter mocked him. “Are you made of magic?” he asked, alarmed.

“Something like that,” Akaashi said, turning to Sarukui, who’d shimmied into the kitchen to claim his own Akaashi Special.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Bokuto said, tugging Kuroo with his free hand.

Kuroo shook his head. “I don’t dance,” he said. “What part of president of nerd house screams ‘dances at parties’ to you?”

Bokuto winked – winked! – and said, “Take another drink. I bet you dance.”

The contrary side of Kuroo wanted to refuse, but on the other hand, replicating a tropical resort inside his mouth was very strong persuasion and, really, Kuroo was already pretty drunk. Nuanced arguments needed sober skills he didn’t currently possess. Kuroo took a long gulp and a few minutes later, as if by teleportation, he found himself on the house’s makeshift dance floor, balancing the rest of his drink in one hand while Bokuto looped an arm around his waist and held him tight. Kuroo, despite himself, found himself swaying to the beat and he was dimly aware of some hooting coming from the crowd when Bokuto got close enough to push one of his legs in between his. There’d probably be pictures of this. There were always pictures.

“I knew you danced,” Bokuto said, triumphant. The music was deafening, but Bokuto’s voice was warm honey inside Kuroo’s head. His mouth had to be right next to Kuroo’s ear, close enough to lick. Kuroo shivered.

“What’s your secret?” Kuroo said, swaying into Bokuto. “How do you get so many people to come to these things? Is it your arms? Do you seduce freshmen with your arms?”

“Why?” Bokuto asked. “Would that work on you?” He laughed then, as Kuroo felt himself nodding, his chin rhythmically hitting Bokuto’s shoulder. 

Kuroo tried to get his cup back to his mouth, twisting awkwardly to make that possible without pulling away from Bokuto. He felt a sharp exhalation of air twice over – once from Bokuto’s breath pushing against his skin and again when his giant chest deflated.

“You all right there?” Kuroo murmured. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bokuto replied, but he sounded pretty out of breath and he stepped back to hold Kuroo by his shoulders.

Kuroo laughed. Dimly, he remembered he was supposed to be pissed off right now, and that Bokuto was one of the things he was meant to be pissed over, but all of that seemed pretty… faraway right then. Kuroo drained his cup and then groaned when he realized that Akaashi’s drink was all gone then. 

“Aw,” he said to himself, pouting.

“Empty?” Bokuto asked. “Don’t worry, we have other things to keep you occupied.” Just then, another of Bokuto’s brothers, Konoha, walked by, pinched fingers to his lips. “Konoha, you holding out on me? Pass, pass!”

Konoha rolled his eyes and handed the world’s smallest joint over to Bokuto before walking off again. “You want the end, you’re welcome to it. There’s maybe one puff left.”

“One is all I need!” Bokuto called after him happily.

Kuroo scoffed. “One, really? How much of a lightweight are you?” He swayed a little on his feet as the Akaashi special hit him a little harder than expected, which sort of undercut his point.

Bokuto waggled his impressive eyebrows. “Don’t worry, this is enough to make anyone dizzy.” With that, he inhaled deeply and dropped the end of the joint on the floor, stomping it out. Bokuto pulled Kuroo in by the arm and Kuroo was too slow and startled to react with anything other than complete compliance, and the next thing he knew, Bokuto’s mouth was on his mouth and exhaling slowly. Startled, Kuroo breathed in what Bokuto was giving and when they finally broke apart, Bokuto was right. Kuroo was plenty dizzy.

He let out his lungful of smoke in a slow, dragged out exhale and closed his eyes. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his night going at all, but now that he had Bokuto as his frat party cruise director, he couldn’t say he hated it.

“Well?” Bokuto said, in his face as soon as Kuroo’s eyelids fluttered open again.

Instead of answering, Kuroo wound his arm around Bokuto’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss, a proper one this time.

“ _Finally_ ,” Bokuto said when they broke apart, whatever that meant, and Kuroo let Bokuto push him against the nearest wall as they kissed and kissed in front of both their frats, the pledges, and probably everybody else on earth.

Kuroo didn’t care. He let himself be dizzy and shaky and overwhelmed, and let his world narrow down to just him and Bokuto, until eventually it faded to black.

*

The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. It was a beautiful morning.

“Urrrrrrrghhhhhhhnnnnnghhhhhhhhh,” Kuroo said. He rolled over onto his back and his stomach didn’t immediately follow. A sunbeam stabbed him in the eye, and he desperately wished for a larger, quieter bird to swoop up whatever cheerful ball of feathers was outside the window. “Nyeurrrrrrghhhhhhh,” he said, stretching his arms out above his head.

It was then that Kuroo realized he wasn’t in his own bed. His pillows felt all wrong, the bedspread was blue instead of red, and importantly, he was shirtless. Kuroo sat up bolt upright in whoever’s bed this was.

“Ah, fuck,” he said, with feeling.

The door slammed open then, making Kuroo wince. “Oh good, you’re awake!” Bokuto announced in a voice five times too cheerful and ten times too loud for Kuroo right then. However, he was holding out a mug of coffee and that made Kuroo feel just a little bit forgiving. He made grabby hands for the mug and took a long, long sip before finally deciding he could deal with the real world again.

“Um,” he said, lowering the mug which he now realized had a picture an owl wearing glasses perched on a branch. Cute. “Did we –?”

“Did we pass out on the dance floor in the middle of a makeout session and then get carried to bed?” Bokuto interrupted. Kuroo let out a relieved breath, but Bokuto continued, “Did we also wake up again when we got to the bedroom and try stripping by swinging our shirts above our heads, while yelling, ‘Cats forever! Nerds rule!’ before passing out again?”

Kuroo squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Yeah, did we do that?”

Bokuto let out a laugh as warm and big as he was. “Half of us did,” he said. “The other half of us kicked Akaashi out of his room and made him take the couch because our bed was already occupied by one of our neighbors and he’s the bartender from hell.”

“Ugh,” Kuroo said, “yes, definitely.”

“But bro,” Bokuto continued, “if you want to know if we had a giant greasy breakfast to help with our stomachs, the answer is not yet.”

Kuroo could have said no. But saying no would mean taking the walk of shame back to KAT house and dealing with whatever teasing he was sure to get there. And also the pictures. Oh, he didn’t want to see those yet. “Let’s change that,” he said, and grabbed Bokuto’s hand with his free one.

“We also haven’t made out more,” Bokuto added helpfully. Kuroo’s stomach lurched then and he realized his mouth tasted like coffee and old sock.

“Gotta save something for later,” Kuroo said, smirking. See, he could still flirt.

Bokuto grinned huge and hopeful. “Best Rush week ever,” he said, and Kuroo had to agree.


End file.
